Mad Max: Unintended Consequences (10 page)

Merry disappeared upstairs as soon as we got home. I went into the empty family room to think. So, she wanted to return to a life before kids. When I thought about it objectively, I'd heard her say variations of the same thing since she came home. It finally added up to a whole lot of crap.

What kind of hold did this creepy doctor have over her? Whenever I tried to discuss her upcoming surgical schedule, I couldn't get a straight answer. Her next was three weeks out, another fairly large reconstruction that would keep her in the hospital overnight at least. I remembered the nose and the final restructuring of the cheekbones coming next, but who knew? Hunter may have changed the order of what he was going to do. In fact, he may have changed
what
he was going to do.

I couldn't figure out what “being” twenty-one meant. Did it mean she was getting ready to bolt and dump the kids on me permanently? Well, she did that months ago, so I couldn't see how rolling back the clock would free her of obligations she'd already abdicated. Did she want to end her marriage? What Whip provided of late was room and board. He was an infrequent father and nonexistent husband. I was the center of the family, with Emilie trying to be a close second.

This was a night of “for onces.” For once, I was glad Whip was gone. For once, I was glad Emilie and Alex were both at sleepovers. For once, I was glad Merry was tucked into whatever substance she wanted to abuse. For once, I didn't call Raney.

So, Merry found being a mother inconvenient. Well, she should have thought about that fourteen years ago. Wait, that wasn't fair. Since the accident and the brain injury, Merry had changed. I now believed Emilie. She wasn't coming back.

I sent a silent message to Emilie. “We'll get through this. I promise.”

I felt a warmth flow over me.

I called Dr. Silberman and asked him to work me in as soon as possible.

He met me after hours on Friday. He took one look at my face. “Something's happened with Mrs. Pugh.”

Boy, did I open up and dump everything on him. I talked for nearly an hour before he brought me a bottle of cold water. I gulped, unaware until that moment how parched my throat was.

“So, Merry's unwilling to be a mother.”

“Yes.” I sipped from the icy bottle.

“From what Emilie has told me—she's given me permission to tell you what we discuss, by the way—her mother has no interest in her or anyone else.” Dr. Silberman pulled a file from his desk, removed a couple of pages and set them aside. “You don't have many options.”

“I didn't think I did.”

“And Mr. Pugh is still traveling all the time, isn't he?”

“He won't stay home. I won't leave the kids, so we have a standoff. Merry's not doing anything and Whip's off in Peru, happy as a pig in shit.”

I walked over to the window and peered out at the gathering dusk. A storm was building. Lightning flashed far off. I needed a knock-down storm to clear the air and my head.

“Have you told Mr. Pugh what Mrs. Pugh said?”

I shook my head. “Not yet. I'll send him an e-mail tonight.”

“Call him. You don't want him to read this. He'll need to talk it out.”

“You're right. I was being a chicken.”

“Mrs. Davies, you had only two decisions: Go or stay. You decided to stay. All the other decisions are Mr. Pugh's.”

“I figured.”

“Your staying provides stability for Emilie and Alex. Mr. Pugh also has limited options.” He tapped his forefinger on his desk. “I'll give you something for him to read. I urge him to retain legal counsel as soon as he can.”

“Can you really change your mind about being a parent?”

Dr. Silberman smiled. “Sad but true. Not everyone wants to be a parent, Mrs. Davies. Some decide before they have children; others realize it after. If they decide early, children can be turned over to the courts for adoption, or placed with another family member. Mr. Pugh might be able to gain custody, since you're in the house.”

“What grounds would Whip have?”

“There are several: parental disinterest, neglect, mental illness, drug or alcohol abuse. Mr. Pugh would have to stand up in court and swear to his wife's inability to continue being a parent. It would be easier were Mrs. Pugh to agree.”

“Either way, Merry and Whip lose.”

“Yes, Mrs. Davies, but the children win.”

I shook his hand and left. Late that night, I called Whip.

I kept my promise to take Merry to Chaminade for her second major operation. According to Dr. Hunter, he would do two in the hospital; everything else would be outpatient.

Merry was pissed off when I told her I couldn't bring her home. After I'd talked with Whip, I booked flights to Peru for the kids and me. I timed the departure to coincide with Merry's surgery. Darla promised to drive her home, even though the two argued over the radical changes Merry was making. Call me cold, but it was time Merry started driving. I told her I'd no longer drive her to and from Chaminade for every doctor's appointment.

After what passed for dinner, I talked at Merry until the soft chime signaling the end of visiting hours sounded through the wards.

“I can't wait. I've worked with Dr. Hunter on all the computer simulations. He's made so many suggestions to improve my whole face, to make it perfect.” Merry looked at me for the first time since the orderly removed the dinner tray. “What?”

“Is this really what you want?” I examined my nails, my face burning.

“Of course. Dr. Hunter says I won't recognize myself.”

“This sounds like what Dr. Hunter wants. Is it what Whip wants? Is it what you want?”

“Who cares what Whip wants. Besides, Dr. Hunter—”

“Hello, Merry.” Dr. Hunter appeared in the doorway. “Ready?”

“Absolutely. Make me perfect.”

Dr. Hunter smiled. “I didn't say I could make you perfect. I said I could make your face perfect. Now, get a good night's sleep. I have a lot of work to do tomorrow.”

He glanced at me. “Leave. I've ordered a sedative. Merry's going to sleep soon.”

I gave Dr. Hunter a “You arrogant ass!” look. The glare bounced off his back. I gathered my things and walked to the door but stopped just outside the room where I could still see my daughter. I wondered what the doctor would do next.

A nurse came in and gave Merry a shot. She was groggy when Dr. Hunter muttered something about almond-shaped eyes and high cheekbones.

That can't be right. They'd agreed on rounder eyes.
Had I forgotten the original computer printout? Nothing on it showed those kinds of changes.

“I'll make everything right this time, Kiki. I promise,” Dr. Hunter whispered.

Kiki? Who the hell's Kiki?
I was creeped out. I watched with horror when Dr. Hunter kissed my daughter's forehead. What was going on?

The day after Merry's operation, Emilie, Alex, and I left for Peru. Darla, who'd promised to bring Merry home, called during a layover in Miami. Merry was home, but we wouldn't recognize her. Hunter had made major structural changes. I worried through the rest of the flight before deciding I could do nothing to change whatever damage was done. I chalked it up to tough love.

I felt cramped and cranky by the time the plane landed in Lima. I'd read and listened to my iPod and despaired about Merry's deterioration. I was more than ready to deplane. I hoped, given enough time and distance, I'd be able to find a way to put things right with Merry. When we walked out of the customs area into baggage claim, Whip stood next to a freckled redhead who barely came to his shoulder. This must be Charlie Lopez-Garcia, Whip's boss.

“Not what you expected, huh?” Charlie grasped my hand with a firm, work-hardened grip.

“Not even close.”

“Mom's as Irish as the day is long. Dad's Mexican from Vera Cruz. Lots of blonds and redheads on both sides of the family.”

I introduced Emilie and Alex. Emilie had a curious expression on her face; Alex gawked. We fetched our baggage and walked out to the truck that would take us into the Andes the next day.

We pulled away from the hotel just before dawn.

“You'll soon see why I don't drive this at night,” Charlie said.

Ten miles out of town, I understood what she meant. When we pulled off the main highway to the interior, the road became little more than a lane-and-a-half dirt track with washouts and potholes large enough to rip the undercarriage out of any truck if the driver hit them too hard. No guardrails. We switched back and forth up the mountain.

Toward the end of the day, we caught our first glimpse of the site when we crested a pass and suddenly, a settlement of sorts amid high mountain pastures came into view. Brown grazers on the slopes were juxtaposed with raw earth, trailers, and all kinds of outbuildings.

“Way cool. Are those horses?” Alex pointed to the grazers.

“No, Alex, they're llamas.” Charlie pointed to a couple of trailers and some metal buildings off to one side. “Max, you and the kids will be in the larger trailer. You're looking at our luxury suite. When Whip and the rest of the guys got here, they had tents. Not much else.”

“And I loved it.” Whip took off his hat and wiped his forehead. “Better now with the trailers and permanent buildings, though.”

“I'm going to love this place.” I looked around at the raw beauty of the mountains surrounding the work site.

“Kinda grows on you.” Whip carried our bags into the trailer.

“The kids can see what you do.” I tossed my handbag on one of the bunks.
Looks like I'm sharing a “room” with Emilie.
“Take charge of them for a while too.”

“Me?”

“Yes, Dad. You. I'm on vacation.”

Alex nearly got himself blown up on the third day when he wandered too close to the blasting zone. I heard an explosion and a thud and ran out of the trailer. Alex lay on his back, covered in dust. He squirmed and coughed.

“Are you all right?” I propped him up and felt for broken bones.

Whip roared up in a truck and leaped out before it came to a halt. Charlie bolted out of the office trailer, yelling for the cook whom, it seemed, had some rudimentary first aid training.

“He's okay.” I held up a dirty hand. “Scared, but not hurt.”

“What the hell happened?” Whip's fear came out like a bark.

“I got too close to the blasting site.” Alex cried as much from his scare as in anticipation of what his dad was going to do to him.

“Follow me, Captain Chaos.”

“Captain Chaos, huh,” Charlie said. “That fits.”

I agreed.

Alex ended up with a lot of bruises and the loss of all privileges for a day. When his dad let him out of purgatory, the kids and I flew to Cusco and rode the bus to Machu Picchu.

“Read this before we get there.” I handed copies of a guidebook on the famous Inca city.

Our book said seeing the city at sunrise was an absolute must. We followed a guide up a hiking trail in the pre-dawn blackness. We came to a teeth-chattering halt fifteen minutes before sunrise. When the rays of the sun slid over the surrounding peaks, I understood the special nature of this place. Emilie and Alex snapped picture after picture and walked all around the city, oohing and ahhing over its wonderful state of preservation.

After a picnic lunch, Emilie found a place in an old town square, folded her hands, and closed her eyes to meditate. Alex scrambled over walls and ran down ancient streets, shouting about everything he saw.

I hated to leave, but the guide hustled us back down the trail late in the afternoon even though there was still plenty of sunlight.

“You want to stay longer? Come in summer. Days are longer.”

Having climbed up the trail in the dark, I could see why he wanted to return in the daylight. We made it with little more than a twisted ankle. It took one step and not watching where I put my boot to find a rock. I spent the rest of the trip wrapped in an Ace bandage.

Ten days passed before we knew it. We packed to leave when Whip told us he was coming too. Alex and Emilie didn't want to leave. Something was bothering them. Time to find out.

“Okay, spill. What's going on?” I plunked myself down on the side of a cot.

“We haven't heard much from Mom,” Emilie started. “She's only answered the phone twice since her operation.”

“And then she said we wouldn't recognize her,” Alex said.

“But I want to recognize her.” Emilie shifted from foot to foot.

“How does she feel?” In a spooky way, her gift was an early warning system into Merry's frame of mind.

“She's happy.” Emilie filled the two words with foreboding.

Both children finished packing in silence. I called Merry one last time to tell her when we were arriving, but she didn't answer. I sent a text message, telling her when to meet us at the airport.

Emilie and I were first through the door into the arrival area, my granddaughter chattering a mile a minute as usual. Alex followed right behind, fussing with a loose strap on his backpack. Emilie stopped so quickly, her brother slammed into her. She elbowed me and pointed to where Merry stood near the bottom of the escalator in baggage claim.

Even though she wore huge sunglasses, they couldn't hide the dramatic changes in my daughter's face. Her cheekbones stuck out like blades where before they used to be soft little apples. Her nose was shorter and tipped upward like Michael Jackson's. I ran down the escalator and whipped off her glasses. She looked grotesque. Her eyes were narrow, not round like they used to be. She'd covered the yellowing bruises with makeup, but not even war paint applied with a spatula could hide the structural changes.

“What in God's name did you do?”

So much for being supportive. So much for not poking. I was too angry to tap dance on eggshells as I'd been doing since I promised Emilie I'd be more understanding. Well, screw that. I was damned pissed and didn't see any reason to hide it. Besides I was positive my face had red blotches, a warning sign my daughter had seen far too often lately. Merry no longer looked like the child I'd bore.

Emilie shot Alex a sibling-only look. She grew pallid under her Peruvian tan and blinked away tears.

“Jeez, Mom, what happened?” Alex blurted. “You look awful.”

Merry must have misunderstood, because she said the bruising was temporary.

“That's not what I meant. You're a freak.” Alex shrugged his overstuffed backpack onto his shoulders and stomped to the baggage carousel.

“We wanted you back, Mom.” Tears slid down Emilie's face. “This isn't what we meant. Why'd you do it?” Emilie turned her back and followed her brother.

“We changed our minds because we thought a different eye would go better with the new cheekbones.” Merry's voice rose. Old habits die hard.

“What's with this ‘we’ shit? You and Dr. Hunter? You and Whip agreed to return you to you.” I, too, walked away.

“You leave him out of this. I like my face, and I don't care if you approve or not.” Merry's voice grew shrill when we challenged her happiness. We rained on her parade.

“Just wait ‘til Whip sees you. Boy, is he going to be pissed!” I couldn't help myself. Time to pound some sense into my daughter's addled brain.

“I don't care.” Merry pouted.

“Don't care about what, Merry?” Whip walked up behind her.

Merry whirled around. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Quite the welcome.” Whip kept his voice even. He didn't mention Merry's face, but he took her arm and steered her toward the baggage carousel.

“I meant, I'm surprised to see you. I thought you'd be gone for a while longer. That's all.”

The tightening of Whip's lips said he didn't believe her. He wasn't going to take Merry's transformation without comment, but baggage claim wasn't the place for war.

I put my arm around Emilie, and we shared another of those shut-out-Mom looks. Shutting out Merry was an engrained habit. I wanted to blame her for shutting us out, too, but that would have let me off the “I'm the grown-up” hook.

Whip drove home in silence. Merry went straight to her bedroom, where I suspected she washed down a pill with a stiff slug of vodka. Whip followed her upstairs after a few minutes.